Littlefield and McKinney sat up straighter.
“Okay,” said Littlefield.
“But we have a little problem,” added Michelle.
“What’s that?” said Littlefield.
“The president wanted us to use our relationship with Tyler to get to his father.”
Sean added, “But you lost Tyler. Now, I’m sure the president knows about that, right?”
McKinney glanced at Littlefield, who directed his gaze at the floor.
“Agent Littlefield?” began McKinney.
Littlefield said, “The president is a busy man. We can’t interrupt him with every little thing.”
“Little thing!” said Sean. “Tyler Wingo is the most important teenager in the country right now.”
“Shit,” muttered McKinney, but a tiny smile escaped his lips, probably at the thought of the FBI’s plight in this case.
Michelle focused her attention on him. “And I don’t think the president, when he finds out, will take the time to specifically assess blame, Agent McKinney. FBI? DHS? To him, it will all be the same. Alphabets that royally screwed up.”
The smile faded from McKinney’s lips.
Littlefield said, “Okay, you’ve shown your hand and it’s a strong one. What do you want?”
“Some cooperation and information sharing,” said Sean.
“Such as?” asked Littlefield warily.
Michelle answered, “Such as all surveillance camera footage from Dulles, Reagan National, and BWI for the last five days.”
“Why?” asked McKinney.
“If Sam Wingo is back in the country we figure he came by plane—commercial, private, or cargo.”
“We’ve already run that with facial recognition software,” said Littlefield.
Sean looked at Michelle. “I’m not feeling the love here. What say we go back to the president and see if he’ll authorize it if these guys won’t?”
“Sounds good to me,” said Michelle. She started to get up.
“Wait, wait,” said Littlefield, holding up his hands. “I guess two more pairs of eyes on it won’t hurt. But it’s a lot of footage.”
“Not if you know what you’re looking for,” said Michelle.
“And you do?” asked McKinney suspiciously.
“Secret Service. We’ve got the best eyes in the business,” answered Michelle.
“Right!” snorted McKinney.
Sean pointed to McKinney’s ear. “You got some shaving cream in your right ear. Guess you missed it this morning. Surprised your DHS buds didn’t point it out.” He looked at Littlefield. “Or your good friend at the FBI.”
McKinney stabbed h
is finger in his ear and looked at the shaving cream on it.